Sighing, he stomped his boots on the mat, shaking off loose gravel and dried mud, then tried to let Nikki go first but she gave her head a small shake.
“It’s so nice to see you, Matt,” Rachel said as soon as he and Nikki stepped inside. After hesitating a moment, Rachel gave him a hug.
His arms automatically came up around her, and he prayed she couldn’t feel his heart pounding against his chest. The embrace was brief, somewhat awkward, as if it was fulfilling an obligation and not something she wanted to do.
Maybe it was his fault. He might’ve held her a little too tight. Exhaling slowly, he moved farther back, hoping to erase any wrong signal on his part.
“I’m Rachel,” she said to Nikki, who then introduced herself, since Matt’s dry mouth couldn’t seem to work. “And don’t worry, it’s not a party, not really,” Rachel said, talking fast, her pitch higher than he remembered. “Let’s go find my brothers. Would you like a drink?”
Nikki looked to him for an answer, the question in her eyes plain. Staying or leaving? Finally she said, “I’ll take a beer if you have one.”
“We do, in addition to wine, margaritas and a weird punch my brother concocted—” Rachel caught him staring at her. She blinked, glanced away, then returned her gaze to him, a stubborn glint in her eyes he knew well. “What?”
“Your hair.” He chuckled. “It’s purple—”
“Oh.” Her hand shot up to touch her head, and she blushed.
“God, Matt.” Nikki glared at him. “It’s the style.”
“I know. But Rachel’s not the type to...” Hell, what did he know? Apparently nothing, judging by the way both women stared at him. Nikki’s brown eyes told him he was a jerk for having laughed. Rachel didn’t seem embarrassed anymore, but somewhat amused.
“Let’s go get your drinks,” Rachel said, giving her hair a toss as if to say, “yeah, it’s purple, so what?” and then leading them in the direction of the dining room.
That was something else he remembered about her. Whenever she got embarrassed or tongue-tied she recovered quickly. He’d envied her that neat trick. Not him. Once he got bucked outta the saddle, he had a heck of a time thinking on his feet. After winning a bunch of titles and having so many microphones shoved in his face, he would’ve thought he’d be better at a comeback.
“It really is a party,” someone whispered from behind.
He turned his head. It was the blonde from the door. She was following them.
With a flirty smile, she leaned closer. “It’s Rachel’s birthday.”
Matt shot a look back at Rachel. He’d known the date, but he’d totally forgotten. Probably blocked it out. He’d never regretted leaving Blackfoot Falls, but he had regretted leaving Rachel...the day before her sixteenth birthday.
* * *
IF RACHEL HAD TO SMILE for a minute longer, her face was going to split in half. Or crack. Or do something equally unattractive. The second she’d heard Matt was in town she knew she’d see him at some point, but she hadn’t expected him to knock on her door.
Wow, she wished she hadn’t let Trace talk her into a glass of the lethal punch he’d cooked up. Especially not after the tequila shots earlier with Jamie. Her head was spinning, she was jabbering like a hormonal parrot, and good God, if her voice squeaked any higher she’d have to pass out earplugs.
Her best defense was to find her brothers. They’d keep Matt busy talking. Of course the subject of Matt had come up at dinner and she’d learned that Trace and Cole had been following his rodeo career. According to them, he’d made quite a name for himself.... He was like a rock star in the sport of bull riding.
She vaguely recalled her mother mentioning he’d started rodeoing seven years ago. Apparently Rachel hadn’t been in the mood to hear about him. It wasn’t until she moved away that she could think of him with any objectivity. And then it hadn’t mattered because after the homesickness passed, she’d adapted quickly to college life. Yes, she’d enjoyed coming home for the holidays, but she was always ready to return to her independence and the lights of Dallas.
Still, she wondered if he’d ever understood how badly he’d crushed her tender heart. Probably not. At the time he thought she was too young for him. It was more likely that he’d passed her affection off as a phase that had faded within a week.
She stopped at the dining room table, covered with filled ice buckets, glasses, chilling wine and a big bowl of Trace’s pinkish-orange punch sitting next to the leftover birthday cake. The lettering was mostly gone and you couldn’t tell the cake was for her. She was glad about that. Though not so happy to see that the beer hadn’t been replenished in the silver cooler.
“Okay,” she said, picking up glasses and holding them up to the light just to be sure they were clean. “We have more beer in the family room wet bar, also a blender of margarita mix in the kitchen. And this? My brother’s 100 proof...frankly, I’m not sure what to call it. He says punch.”
“Let me guess....” Matt smiled. “Trace?”
Rachel nodded. “He was only seventeen when you left, and still you know.”
Matt’s smile faded. The cautious way he met her eyes removed any doubt he was thinking about that night—him leaving, not saying a word, the inadequate note he’d left for her....
If they were alone she’d tell him it was okay. He didn’t have to worry. It wouldn’t be a lie, but seeing each other again after all those years was stirring up crazy and unexpected feelings. At least for her.
Oh, God...an annoying thought struck her. She’d done the math. She could’ve made any sort of joke about Trace not changing. Most people wouldn’t remember it had been exactly ten years since Matt left. But she did. Ten years and one day.
Jeez, what was wrong with her? Until she’d seen him earlier, she really hadn’t been thinking about him. Even if she had, too bad. He had Nikki. And she was gorgeous with her long dark hair, olive skin and light brown eyes.
“So...” Rachel pretended to study the table and cleared her throat. “What will it be?”
“I’ve changed my mind about the beer,” Nikki said. “I might need the punch.” She glanced at Matt, who eyed her with a touch of amusement and an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Their private look depressed Rachel. It shouldn’t have—she had no business having any reaction. Carefully keeping her gaze lowered, she grabbed the tongs to put ice in the glass.
“I can do that myself,” Nikki said. “Matt, I know you want a beer, so why don’t you two go get it. I’ll find you.”
Rachel looked up. He was watching her with blue eyes she remembered differently. Had she been too young to notice the smoldering intensity? “Beer?”
“Unless your brothers wiped them out.”
“They better not have.” She moved around the table, smiling at Nikki. “Help yourself to the cake. Or anything in the kitchen,” she added, feeling a bit guilty.
It would make sense to wait for her since it took seconds to ladle punch into a glass. But Rachel wanted Matt to herself, even if only for two minutes.
“Thanks,” Nikki said. “The cake does look good. I just might have a piece.”
Matt’s brows drew together in a puzzled frown directed at Nikki, who ignored him and switched places with Rachel so she could get to the punch bowl.
“You want to wait for her?” Rachel asked, unnerved to be near enough to see a small scar on his beard-roughened chin.
“Nah, she’s okay. I never have to worry about that one.”
Except he did, Rachel could see it in his lingering gaze, and she felt horrible for being disappointed. But when he touched the small of her back as she slipped past him, she felt something else altogether.
It was crazy, inappropriate, unacceptable, yet she couldn’t make herself unfeel the sizzling electric shock that had flowed from his palm up her spine. She sincerely hoped it was the cumulative effect of the day’s booze causing her to act like a dope. She wasn’t the type of woman to covet a man who was take
n. He was with Nikki, though Rachel didn’t believe they were married, and not just because of the lack of rings. It was simply a gut feeling. Had she kept her mouth shut instead of babbling when she first saw them, he would’ve introduced Nikki himself.
“I don’t know any of these people, do I?”
Rachel started. It wasn’t his question that made her jump, but the proximity of his mouth to her ear...his warm breath gliding over her skin. She’d already led him through the living room without realizing it. The guests were all staring at him—of course they were, they were women.
Her birthday celebration had included them, and they’d heard the dinner talk. Now they were putting two and two together, and they were checking out the hot, sexy rodeo star.
“You don’t,” she said, pausing to clear her head enough to ensure her voice and brain were in sync. Obviously he didn’t know about the dude ranch part of the Sundance. “So much has happened just in the past year....”
They had to sidestep Carla, a guest from Indianapolis, who blocked their path to the family room. She got in a breathy, “Hi,” aimed at Matt before they could pass her.
“Evenin’,” he said, giving her a polite smile.
“Have some cake, Carla,” Rachel said pleasantly, but stayed on course. She tilted her head closer to Matt. “We’re going to keep walking or else you can forget about your beer.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, which probably shouldn’t have made Rachel smile because his grim tone indicated he might be sick of too much female attention at this point in his career.
She wondered how he’d handled the buckle-bunny phenomena. Although the rodeo scene had never interested her, she knew about the groupies who followed the circuit. It didn’t matter if the guy was attractive. If he was at the top of his game, he was getting a whole lot of hotel room keys stuffed in his pockets.
For Matt, it had to be a double whammy. He’d always been good-looking with his sun-lightened hair and beautiful blue eyes. It wasn’t just her opinion. Half the girls in high school, all four grades, had secretly crushed on him. Yet he’d only had one girlfriend. They’d both been sophomores, as serious as two fifteen-year-olds can be...until his father had humiliated him in front of Emily and then ran her off the Lone Wolf.
Now, almost thirty, Matt was even better-looking than he’d been at nineteen. The years had given his face more character, with fine lines at the outside corners of his eyes, grooves along his sexy mouth that apparently she’d been unable to suitably appreciate in her youth. His nose seemed different, though, a bit crooked.
“Rachel, wait.” He caught her arm just outside the family room.
Her heart nearly stopped. Had he noticed her staring? If he felt compelled to point out he was with Nikki and not interested in straying, Rachel would just die. Right here. Right now, on her twenty-sixth birthday. So sad.
She did as he asked, but he didn’t let go. Staring into each other’s eyes, they stood in a small semi-private foyer that was the result of an addition to the original house.
Matt smiled. “It’s good to see you.” He stroked his palm down her arm to her hand, and lightly squeezed.
“Yeah, you, too.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t remember.”
“What?”
He lowered his head, slowly closing the distance between their mouths.
Rachel sucked in a breath so hard she thought she’d pass out. Holy crap, he was going to kiss her....
He moved his head, just a tad, and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Happy birthday, kiddo.”
4
RACHEL DIDN’T CARE THAT he was so handsome he made her thighs clench. Or that there were far too many witnesses in the next room. She was going to strangle him.
Kiddo.
A barely contained growl chafed her throat. This was like adding the proverbial salt to the wound.
He had to know...the way he’d leaned into her...the dark intensity of his eyes...well, naturally she’d expected an entirely different kind of kiss.
Dammit, she didn’t understand this grown-up version of Matt at all. Her teasing and flirting used to earn her slow bashful smiles. She’d enjoyed having the upper hand.
Or had she? As a kid had she gotten his reaction to her mixed up? Maybe those smiles had been patronizing. Her breath caught painfully somewhere between her lungs and her throat.
“Thanks,” she said, smiled brightly and led him into the family room, announcing, “Look who’s here.”
Cole and Trace both glanced up from their game of pool. Jamie was there, too. Just in case Jamie was making faces at her, Rachel kept her eyes averted.
“Hey, Matt.” Cole leaned his stick against the wall, and stuck out his hand as he came around the table. “Good to see you, buddy.”
Trace passed his cue to Sandy, a pretty blonde who’d checked in yesterday. Her quieter friend, Krista, was already holding Trace’s beer.
“I should’ve known you hustlers were back here.” Matt shook each of their hands, and acknowledged the women with a polite nod.
“Hustlers, huh?” Sandy baited Trace, while she discreetly sized up Matt.
“Now that’s what you call sour grapes. Matt can’t play worth spit. We used to humiliate him.”
“Yep.” Matt laughed. “I still suck at it.” He stuffed his hands in his jeans’ pockets and leaned a shoulder against the wall. “You guys still keep a running score?”
Cole snorted, and eyed Trace. “No. Some of us are busy and don’t have enough time to play these days.”
“Translation...” Trace said with a cocky smile, “I’m still whipping him.”
Leaping to Cole’s defense, Jamie let out a haughty “You do not.”
“That’s my girl.” Chuckling, Cole caught her hand. “Matt, this is Jamie.”
“I see things have changed around here.” Matt briefly raised his brows at Cole. “Nice meeting you, Jamie.”
“Yes, likewise.”
“Now you know why my brother has no time for pool.” Trace reclaimed the cue from Sandy. She gave him a stiff smile and a pointed look. “Oh, yeah, Matt, this—” Trace paused, a fleeting expression of panic on his face. “You want a beer?” Trace didn’t wait for the answer. He flashed a winning smile at the tall blonde. “Darlin’, you mind getting Matt a cold one?”
“Sure.”
Rachel and Jamie exchanged glances. They knew Trace had already forgotten the woman’s name. Rachel pressed her lips together and lowered her gaze to the eight ball in the corner, trying not to laugh. She should bail him out. Not to be nice, he deserved to squirm, but it wasn’t fair to let their guests feel uncomfortable.
She moved around the pool table and picked up two empty glasses sitting on the window ledge. “Sandy, Krista, would you like another drink?”
“Not me, thanks.” Krista exhaled loudly. “Trace’s punch nearly did me in.”
“Amen,” Sandy added, pulling a bottle out of the small fridge.
“Yeah,” Rachel said. “I don’t think we’ll let him play bartender again.” Okay, she’d done her part. Let Trace figure out who was who.
Matt pushed off the wall to take the beer Sandy passed him. “Thanks.” He gave her a smile that could melt a brick. “I don’t recall so many pretty women in Blackfoot Falls before I left.”
“Handsome and charming.” Sandy’s smile dazzled. “Why did I not know this about Montana men?”
Rachel tried really hard not to roll her eyes. Good thing.
Sandy glanced at her. “There’s only one beer left. I’ll restock if you tell me where to get more.”
“You’re a guest. I’ll get it.”
“No, it’s your birthday,” Jamie cut in. “They’re in the kitchen. Sandy and Krista, come help me.”
With the other two trailing behind her, Jamie walked past Rachel and gave her an OMG look no one else could see.
“Well, shit,” Trace said as soon as the women were out of earshot. “Look at you, Gunderson, making the ladies hot and bothered. Y
ou don’t get enough action on the road?”
“You seem to be doing okay,” Matt said, laughing. “And you don’t have to get thrown from a bull.”
“But he’s sure been flinging a lot of it around,” Cole said, and took his next shot.
Trace glanced toward the door. “Hell, those women are wearing me out. No joke.”
Rachel grunted. “They just arrived yesterday.”
“You know what I mean.” Trace took a swig of beer. “Good time for you to show up, Matt. You’ll take the heat off.”
“Oh, please, you’re not fooling anyone.” Rachel knew it was true. Trace had gotten sick of the attention. But she wanted to steer the conversation away from Matt and his sex life. Just the hint of it grated on her nerves. “You’ve been the main attraction. I really should pay you a bonus.”
“No, thanks. What I need is time off for damn good behavior.”
Cole laughed at that. “I don’t think you want to go down that road.” He eyed Trace as if he knew something Rachel didn’t. Did Cole honestly believe she didn’t know Trace had played loose with the rules? She suspected he’d slept with a guest or three in the past few months, but he’d been discreet. “Your shot.” Cole stood back to give Trace room and looked at Matt. “I reckon you came to see your father.”
He hesitated, then took a long pull of beer. “Yeah, I’m here because of Wallace. Where’s Jesse?”
Clearly Matt wanted the subject of his father dropped. “He’s away overnight,” Rachel said. “In Wyoming, I think. He’s an animal-rescue volunteer.”
“Good for him.”
No one said anything while Trace crouched, squinting at the eight ball, trying to line up his next shot. A giddy laugh from the living room distracted him. He missed and cursed under his breath.
“What’s going on around here?” Matt asked. “Who are these women?”
“Wow, that’s right, you don’t know about our new venture.” Rachel sighed. “I started to tell you earlier. We’re trying our hand at the dude ranch business.”
Your'e Still the One Page 4
